The Finish Line!
by KentuckyDreamer
Summary: I have failed at many things. But, one thing I remember failing was one race. My horse and I trained hard, but not hard enough. I remember everything. A story about a young jockey named Alison who finds out what racing is all about Please review!


I have failed at many things, but the one thing I remember most was my first race. My horse and I had trained hard, but not hard enough. I can remember everything so clearly.

The sun was high in the heavens; there was not a cloud in sight. The track had been freshly raked; there was not a single hoof mark or footprint. I was about to ride the most important race in my life. I was riding my horse, well not really my horse, but that was how I had always thought of him.

His name was Running Strong and since he was a baby I have helped to raise him and train him along with Jared Thornton his original trainer. He was a nice thoroughbred, tall, lean, strong, and he had will to win, but contrary to popular belief not all thoroughbreds are mean and temperamental and especially not him. He was extremely gentle, but once you got him on the track even for training he wanted to out race every horse in his sight. So on that day I had no doubt in my mind he would win.

It was his first race and we were both excited. In my excitement; I tripped on a rake on my way from the barn to the Jockey's Locker Room. While it was lonely getting changed in the lady's locker room, it gave me a chance to clear my mind and focus on the race. After I slid on my orange and purple silks, my white pants, and black racing boots, I walked out of the locker room.  
As I was walking to the scale one of the other apprentice jockeys, who was racing against me, bumped into me saying in his thick French accent "This is no place for a _girl_!" He spit the word as if it were a curse. "Why don't you go home and play with your dolls" Then just before I could think of anything to say he strode away toward the saddling paddock.

"Don't vorry about Jacque. He is just jealous that he might get beat by a pretty girl like you" said Anton in his Russian accent while putting his arm around me. "I vouldn't mind if a girl beat me, as long as she vas as pretty as you." Then it was his turn to walk up to the scale. I could tell I was blushing and I wasn't worried about trying to hide it, but I knew that I had to focus on the race ahead of me.

When I walked up to the scale I was happy to see that I was only a little below the assigned weight. After they put the lead in my saddle pad and made sure that I was at the exact weight, I walked over to the saddling paddock where I was to get my instructions of how to ride the race.

As I walked in I saw Running Strong strike out at the groom with one of his front hooves, but to my surprise the groom hit the horse in the face.  
"What do you think your doing!!" I cried as I ran in grabbing his arm and pushing him away from the horse. Considering how big he was I was lucky I had surprised him or else that wouldn't have done any good.

"He kicked at me that little demon!" He said. His face was getting red from both anger and embarrassment of having gotten caught "He needs to learn he is not the boss."

"Oh I ought to do the same to you. Cause quite frankly you aren't the boss either." I said as my anger flared up.

"Alison stop." Said Jared who had walked in while I was busy yelling. "and as for you" he said pointing to the groom "you are fired!"

Jared and I finished saddling Running Strong and as we herd the call for Jockeys Up he gave me a foot up. Finally we were led onto the track.

The lights from the track blinded me as Jared handed us off to the pony girl named Ginny. Who I knew from galloping horses in the morning. "Hey Alison" she said happily "Good luck today. Running Strong is an amazing horse. You will do great."

Running Strong was prancing as we walked past the grandstands. He was holding his head as if he had already won the race, but as we walked past I heard murmuring throughout the crowed about me being a female jockey. I just smiled at them and focused on the race.

When we arrived at the starting gates Ginny gave me a hug and told me to stay safe, but after she left Jacque rode his mount Desire of The Heart over to me. He leaned out of his saddle and said to me in a vulgar tone "You think you're a jockey, ha how pathetic! Pull out now or I swear you will regret it." Then turning his mount sharply he was led in to the starting gates.

I stared shocked at what he said till Running Strong shook beneath me reminding me of my responsibility. Then it was my turn to be loaded into the gates.

Running Strong loaded in like the starting gate like the gentleman he was. When we were in the starting gate I herd Jacque whisper to me in his French accent "Stupid girl you will never amount to anything."

"Shut up!" I yelled at him. Running Strong sensed my anger and nervousness and danced on his hooves as the butterflies fluttered wildly in my stomach.

All the jockeys leaned forward, grabbing their high-strung mount's mane, gathering the reins. The bell rang loudly and the gates flew open, releasing a thunderous wave of hooves. It felt like I was riding a bullet, I could feel the wind whipping my hair. I could also feel Running Strong's smooth muscles thundering beneath me. We stayed near the back and I couldn't hear any thing but the thundering of hooves, jockeys coaxing on their mounts, and the slight murmur of the announcer keeping the places of the three lead horses. All I mainly heard was my mount's breathing and his hooves pounding on the turf as he picked up speed to squeeze through a hole between two horses, taking our place from ninth to sixth.

We came upon the final turn quickly; my heart pounded rapidly in my chest. My blood raced through my veins, the adrenaline coursing through. I leaned lower over Running Strong's neck and pushed the reins forward.  
"Let's go, boy!"  
Running Strong snatched up the free bit of rein and surged forward. His legs stretched out as far as they could go, his mane whipping wildly like a white flame. His nose flared and the other horses we passed looked like blurs.  
Then we were beside Jacque. He smirked as he struck me across the face with the whip saying "You ignorant girl. Pull up your mount before something happens to your pretty face" I checked Running Strong then let him regain the ground we had lost. Then we were beside Jacque again and he bumped his mount against mine causing us to bump into the rail. I could feel the rail scraping against my boot. We slowed down and came along the outside to take the lead and to leave Jacque in the dust.  
"We got it boy! We got it!"  
All my training had paid off! I couldn't believe it! Only moments later, everything was shattered. A black stallion named Heaven's Fire, closed in like a freight train, catching up to Running Strong and I. The finish line was only feet away. We went faster than I had ever though possible. The loud thundering of the black stallion was behind us. I pushed the reins forward more, heeling his sides, keeping with his movements. The black stallion came closer. Running Strong urged himself faster. We were almost home and the black stallion came closer, faster, and finally both Running Strong and the black stallion were fighting neck and neck for the finish.  
I clenched my teeth angrily. The finish line came fast. Both horses passed the line and my heart throbbed. I slowed Running Strong down and watched the close up replay and my heart sank. Heaven's Fire beat me by a nose. I had lost.

After that race, I reported Jacque who got his license revoked for six months and Running Strong and I trained harder and harder. The next race we were in, we won. But I realized something after that one race. I had lost my first race. I had failed my first try. I had wanted to give up, but like a true friend Running Strong wouldn't let me. I learned that it doesn't matter if you lose, even if it's by a nose. You either let it get to you, or you get back on the track and keep fighting. Failure is the closed door that was once open. You either stand there, looking at the closed door in despair, or you turn around and see the open window. Running Strong had pulled me to that window. And it was both of us that went through it. Racing isn't all about winning or losing or who's the best. It's about the horse and rider; the team. It's about together. Because, it's both that cross the finish line.


End file.
